


When You Were Young

by steingasse



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Hypersexuality as a result of trauma, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Officer AU, Police Officer Yuuri Katsuki - Freeform, This is probably going to get real dark, its not a mafia AU but the mafia is involved, will tag and change rating as it goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 08:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10433598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steingasse/pseuds/steingasse
Summary: In the five years Yuuri had been an officer, nothing major had ever happened in Hasetsu. It came as a bit of a shock when some bigwigs called in with information regarding an outpost of a widespread crime ring authorities had been tracking for a decade. Specifically, an outpost which had settled, silent and inconspicuously, in the run-down remnants of one of Hasetsu’s closed bathhouses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had a perfectly sweet soulmates AU planned. Then this monstrosity jumped into my head. Unfortunately, I love to Suffer.

In the five years Yuuri had been an officer, nothing major had ever happened in Hasetsu. There were constant traffic violations, some disagreement over zoning laws, the occasional group of rowdy teenagers. The most exciting thing in recent memory was the time the Yamamoto family called in to the station and demanded to put out a missing person’s report for their grandmother. They found out later her dementia had simply gotten the best of her on the way home from the market and decided she would go visit her old flame.  Nothing criminal there except for some highly disputed adultery.

Given the tranquil nature of the town, it came as a bit of a shock when some bigwigs from Fukuoka called in to tell them that some bigger-wigs from Tokyo had information regarding an outpost of a widespread crime ring authorities had been tracking for a decade. Specifically, an outpost which had settled, silent and inconspicuously, in the run-down remnants of one of Hasetsu’s closed bathhouses.

Celestino had been flabbergasted. Phichit glanced up from his phone, lowering his feet from the desk as their superior’s face began to turn stony, his hand white-knuckled on the receiver. “Yes, yes. Absolutely. I understand.” Shuffling a pile of paperwork, Yuuri had cocked an eyebrow, questioning, naively, what could have been so important.

The resulting few hours were chaos.   

They had to act fast; the intelligence was stale at best, ancient at worst. There was no way to tell if the outpost was still in use or, if so, what possible resistance could be found there. Even so, a sudden influx of military personnel would cause suspicion, likely blowing the whole thing. The local force would have to handle this with little outside help.

“We’ve had training,” Yuuri reassured Phichit, ignoring his own racing heart and weak limbs as they checked the materials one more time – tasers, cuffs, shields, guns. He had never needed to use the gun before. The van rocked along the bumpy path – the abandoned lot was high up the mountains it seemed – doing nothing to help the churning of his stomach. “We’re going to be fine.”

Phichit gave a nod before turning and smiling relaxingly, face barely visible in the dim light of the compartment. “I’m glad we finally get to do something. Something that _matters,_ I mean.” He tapped his foot against the metal flooring, fidgeting, causing the other officers to send over a glare. “Of course I know every job is important,” he corrected himself quickly, looking a bit sheepish. “But I like knowing that I’m actively protecting people. That’s what we all signed on for, isn’t it?”

 _Damn, and I’m supposed to be his senior officer._ Yuuri nodded back in return, trying to seem nonplussed. Of course he wanted to protect people; it’s the most honorable calling anyone could have. His mother had said that once, on his first day on the job, smoothing his uniform and then squeezing his shoulders with a smile. _This is what I wanted too. I’ve trained for this. I’m ready. I’m not afrai-_

 _“Okay, boys,”_ Celestino’s voice crackled over the receiver in his ear. Around him everyone stirred to attention, fingers unconsciously coming up to hold the headset in place. _“We’re taking the place from all sides. We’ve got three entrances and four squads – one squad each for each way out and another to patrol the perimeter.”_ Yuuri felt the van rumble to a stop, the doors opening. They would need to walk the rest of the way, for silence’s sake.

 _“Assailants are likely armed. Deadly force has been authorized. It doesn’t matter what it takes - lock down the objective and clear it. No one gets out, understood?”_ No one responded, not needing to. Stealth was of the essence now anyway, sneaking through the trees, weapons drawn. In the distance a single window was dimly lit, barely giving on orientation of the target.

Yuuri swung his head around, locating Phichit. “Stay together,” he mouthed. His partner nodded.

After a coordinated countdown, the forces sprung from trees.

Yuuri saw the other squads bursting from their hiding spaces, the few perimeter controls set in position. His focus was quickly diverted however, to the door in front of him, barred from sliding on the inside. With a grunt he kicked it down, the thin wood and paper lattice crumbling easily. What the hideout had in discretion it lacked in security, the walls being of the traditional flimsy style. The squad flicked on their headlamps as they rushed inside, illuminating the dusk of the old resort.

The wood floor still shone, though the scent of warm water had long faded into that of mildew. They scooted down the hallway, sliding open doors and clinging to the walls, sticking heads in with the preface of a raised gun before scanning the room and yelling “clear”. They had gotten to the third room when the first gunshot sounded.

It was muffled by distance, likely on the opposite side of the building, yet everyone immediately dropped further into a squat, backs against the wall, scanning the surrounding area. The sounds of a scuffle quickly escalated, a few cries ripping through the silence as gunshots began to pop like thunder.

 _“Assailants, west side, three down, two secured. No losses on our side.”_ The message rang through the earpiece. _“Push on.”_ It crackled out.

Ahead there was a commotion. Lights centered on a figure who emerged from a staircase, swore, and rocketed upwards.

“Stop, police!” Four more shots and two of his squad in pursuit.

“Branch off, here and here,” Yuuri directed the rest down the split hallway. “Clear the rooms, surround the courtyard and work in. Stay on guard!”

“Yes, sir!” And he was left with Phichit.

“We take this one. Same orders as the rest.” The building was beginning to come alive around them, a few shouts and gunshots piercing the air, footsteps thudding against hardwood floors. Yuuri skin prickled with what seemed like electricity, every hair standing on end. They cleared the first room, the second. The third was full of boxes of white powder. They called in the position and continued.

A thousand thoughts raced in Yuuri’s mind, yet simultaneously it was blank, focused only on the task at hand. Fear, dark and cutting, dug into his chest like a knife, making it hard to breathe. _I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid._ They pushed on, cleared the hallway, encountered no one else.

_“North perimeter, two down, critical injury, requesting support.”_

_“East entrance, three in custody, one down, maintaining post.”_

Those could have been anyone in his group. They could be people he knew. _Breathe._ At his back, Phichit checked down the hall once more before gesturing questioningly towards the staircase. Yuuri shook off the apprehension, nodded and started down, gun raised to eye level.

Each step creaked, the nails sticking up and tearing into the soles of his shoes. It seemed to lead into a storage room of sorts. A cellar, perhaps for keeping liquor out of the light. It certainly smelled like it – the stench of booze, waste, and sick mixing together was enough to make Yuuri breathe shallowly. With a motion he directed Phichit down one side of the room as he started down the other, fitting into niches between crates and glancing around corners.

A loud crack reverberates around the enclosed space followed by a yelp, Yuuri swinging his weapon to face the noise. “ _Phichit?”_

 _“Shit,_ sorry.” There was a disgruntled sound of adjustment and the pitter of falling debris. “The floorboards just, gave out?”

Yuuri breathed out and it seemed to take the life with him. Phichit was fine. A little clumsy, but fine. If his partner had gotten hurt with him a few meters away, separated only by packing crates and sacks…the guilt and anger would have been dangerous. He took another step to the right, advancing further into the darkness, scanning. Notifications continued to filter into his ear.

To his left and slightly behind, something moved.

Every instinct kicked into overdrive, his body spinning, gun raised and cocked, lined up perfectly between the lidded eyes of the figure prone on the floor.

At first Yuuri couldn’t tell if it was male or female; long hair lay around them in a tangled mess. Thin pale limbs sprawled haphazardly along the boards, settled in a nest of bottles, syringes, and distinct plastic wrappers which made Yuuri swallow thickly. A thin jacket was their only source of modesty, slung low like a blanket across their bruised hips. They moved again under Yuuri’s attention, neck craning to get a look at him.

At the same moment Yuuri registered the clamoring of feet on the same creaky steps which had brought him down here. He turned, rapidly, barely registering the surprised face of a Caucasian man swiftly switching to a snarl, reaching for his side, before he shot him. Once, twice, three times. The recoil was more than he remembered. His hands went numb. The man fell backwards, blood pooling on the worn wood.

“You alright?” Came Phichit’s call, frantic.

Yuuri focused. Lowered his hands. Centered on his breathing.

“Yeah, not hit.”

_I just killed a man._

“Thank god. It’s all clear over here.”

_“Courtyard secure. Four down, one in custody, two officers with minor wounds. Awaiting instruction.”_

None of them had ever had to use their weapons before.

_“Perimeter secure. Two in custody, one at large. Officers in pursuit.”_

The figure moved again. Yuuri could see them more clearly now – the stretch of skin over bone, the curve of their cheek, dim eyes that barely seemed to register the light assaulting them.

“Phichit, we’ve,” he blinked, keeping his weapon raised. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck. Something about the stranger was ethereal, faint, almost misleadingly ghost-like. As if, given Yuuri were to reach out, offer to help them stand, his hand would pass right through that milk-cream skin, the mirage vanishing.  “We’ve got someone over here.”

His partner rushed over, sparing a glance at the cooling body before coming to stop at his side. “ _holy-“_

_“West side, slight resistance. Four down now, two secured. Minor injury.”_

Yuuri saw Phichit take in the sight before them, gazing going from his senior to the stranger. Back and forth, back and forth, like he didn’t know what he was looking at.  Yuuri couldn’t blame him. Situations like this were not covered in basic training. They were scarcely even acknowledged.

Yuuri steeled himself, got on his knees. The person adjusted themselves, braced on their elbows, legs still sprawled out carelessly. From this position Yuuri could see that they were definitely male, chest flat and thinly muscled. His jaw, where the light shone on it, cast a sharp shadow against his neck.

Yuuri activated the mouthpiece. “East wing and cellar secure. One down.” He hesitated a moment, eyes fixed on the floor. The man’s feet fell into his field of vision. His ankles looked red and raw. “One non-combatant secured. Requesting medical attention.” He let off the button.

The man’s features were western, with a straight nose and wide eyes. Yuuri dug into in his mind, pulled up the recesses of his English from college. “I am Officer Katsuki. This is Officer Chulanont.” He motioned behind him. The man stared blankly, no sign of confusion nor recognition in his gaze.

_“Request for medical acknowledged. Stay in position.”_

 “We’re going to help you, alright?” Yuuri tried again.

At that the man smiled, slow and wide, like he knew a secret. Yuuri watched helpless as he maneuvered himself into a short bow. His eyes met Yuuri’s, strange mirrors of blue. His voice when he spoke was soft, lyrical, and heavily accented.

 “Of course, sir.”


End file.
